Rooftop Delivery
by Khiori
Summary: Huntress needs some saving. (A Helena and Karen Starr, Power Girl, moment.)


Arkham stank.

It stank of Gotham's never lifting poisonous swill of industrial smog; of the ever smothering eddying waste currents of generations of stench smoking factories and vehicles, which had over the decaying years gradually laid down a grotesque thick noxious black crust of filth over its slowly crumbling graffiti defaced brick and heavily scarred concrete.

It stank of Gotham's soul rotting eternal corruption; of corrupted decades of finely dined political corpse breath that whispered hoarsely of bribes, payouts and sly skeletal fingered budgetary fund diverting over expensive scented five star meals.

It stank of Gotham's collapsing infrastructure that could no longer afford even survival; of mildew and molds spreading in foul nose burning ripples from putrefying stagnant pools beneath neglected corroding pipes, of spew inducing vile overflowing toilets, and manufactured waste sludge clotted drains. Of cockroaches and rats scurrying in decaying walls, adding their vile musky excrements to the rank inmate stenches of forgotten unwashed bodies, encrusting acid puddles of vomit, coppery dank crimson splatters and wet oily smears of feces.

It stank of Gotham's last despairing defenders; of tarred black cheap burned coffee in Styrofoam cups, of weary plastic gloved shaking hands harshly smelling of the heavily alcohol fake cherry industrial antibacterial soap from hurried restroom dashes, of the eye searing chemical conflicting crude stinks of ammonia and bleach in ever losing janitorial battles, and of the medicinal reeks of the coarse government funded experimental drugs that were the only thing the poorly locked cabinets now guarded-of overly sugared over heated budget t.v. dinners, thick rank nervous fearful sweat, and even the hot tangy smelling dread scent of gunpowder. Of rage pungent ingrained kevlar and scorched nomex and fresh blood stained leather.

But most of all, Arkham stank of Gotham's slowly dying terrible despair.

And Huntress found that she _hated_ that stench most of all.

"You don't have to stay, you know."

But she did.

Huntress didn't bother turning around at first. Instead, she just slowly inhaled, letting her nostrils gradually fill and cleanse themselves from Arkham's stench with the comfortingly familiar curious mingling of sweet almond soap and metallic ozone tang that was Power Girl.

Her anger at Arkham eased away until all that was left was what caused it. _Grief._ Then gradually even that faded to a dull throb in her heart. She took a deep breath again, letting herself completely relax. And, this time, she caught the lower acrid musk of Karen's Demon Cat-and hotly strong Szechuan spice.

Helena's eyes glinted wickedly in the night. _Too bad that doesn't mean what it could._ Although the damn thing would probably give them deadly food poisoning as one last vicious swipe of its serial killer claws. That would fit the nasty one-eyed Hell Kitty's personality _exactly_.

Huntress figured it would totally be worth the suffering.

She turned at last away from Arkham and her almost black purple lipsticked mouth quirked wryly at her best and-bitterly all too often even in the Justice League—only friend.

Who happened now to be actually floating her tall self above the crude tar papered rooftop with two insulated four tiered stainless tiffin boxes in her blue gloved hands, her crimson half cape flowing about her Multiverse renowned white clad curves in the night wind.

Huntress gave a _mostly_ feigned huff of irritation at the sight of the _two_ tiffins. "What _exactly_ do you have against my cooking, woman?"

"Hmm, I think it's more like: what do I have against the _frequency_ of your cooking?" Power Girl, tilted her sassy haired blonde head to one side as she pretended innocently to think about it. "Or, wait-" She suddenly pinned Huntress with the Kryptonian red eyed warning stare she normally reserved for particularly evil villains or decaffeinated coffee and her cheery voice dropped into a dangerous coolness. "-is that _the lack of one_?"

Huntress sighed and rolled her eyes. She dealt with Batman on an all too unfortunate regular basis. The Bat Stare still trumped any Kryptonian one on the Shiver Gradient System. But she knew Karen's often mercurial hot temper and how single minded the blonde powerhouse could get when she went into what she believed to be a righteous cause. And she _always_ considered Helena a righteous cause. They had become practically sisters over the years, the outcome of shared horrific losses, grinding isolation, and mutual often black sheep status. Which meant they usually fought constantly.

But always _together_.

 _It is kind of nice to have someone who actually gives a damn._

"Yes, _mother_ , I promise to be good now." And she meant it. _Well, mostly._

Power Girl snorted doubtfully, not at all deceived-she did after all, Huntress noted with dry oddly pleased amusement, actually _know_ her-but her eyes returned to their mostly normal sparkling good natured baby blue as her worried point was made and acknowledged as somewhat valid. "Good girl, now Mommy loves you." Then she extended one of the tiffin boxes insistently with all her well known _I-will-not-be-defied-because-I'm-damn-Power Girl-ness_. "Now remember to actually _eat_ your vegetables this time." She said with a slight growl, apparently still not _entirely_ done with the fussiness yet, "Again, _X-ray vision._ If you Dark Knight them over the side of the building again, you'll be walking back from _Siberia_."

Huntress snorted and then blinked, caught off guard entirely. _Damn, I thought she had missed that!_ Then she eyed the way long blonde lashed eyes narrowed dangerously at Helena's obvious surprise at actually getting caught. _And I'm an idiot._ Sometimes it was easy to forget that the I'm-only-about-the-hitting image Karen broadcast was as much a ruse as Superman's I'm-clumsy-sweet-and-mild-mannered-Kent.

" _Fine._ " She eyed the tiffin box suspiciously and her nostrils flared, scenting Karen again. The ozone was stronger than it normally was, and Helena just shook her head as she gave in all the way to the actually weirdly sweet bulldozing and took the handle in one purple gloved hand. _Unbelievable._ "You actually went to _China_ for this, didn't you?"

The other brightened all the rest of the way, happy now that she could see her little extra effort had won this round of mothering. "Hell, _yes_. It's not proper Szechuan if white boys make it." Power Girl neatly pulled two pairs of chopsticks from her impressive soft cleavage with a flourish. " _Chopsticks?_ "

Huntress' eyes bugged in feminine outrage and she sputtered. "Oh, you did _not_ just do that!"

Power Girl grinned unrepentantly naughty, obviously pleased to have provoked Helena yet again, and poked at Huntress with them. "Big baby. It's called _improvisation_ , sweetheart, not all of us rock utility belts."

Huntress blocked the poke with her own growl and neatly swiped a set, pissed that her fair cheeks were flushing. "I will _build_ you a damn one! _Don't do that again!_ "

Power Girl just laughed at Helena's horrified righteous Catholic self. "You have the most bizarre hang ups, girl-" Karen lowered herself gently to the rooftop, pausing a moment wary of the uncertain mix of a Gotham ruined roof and her Kryptonian strength. "—for someone who runs through the _sewers_." She lounged against the low edge of the roof with a languidness Huntress outright envied and her blue eyes glinted in enjoyment as she gave Helena a mockingly reproving shake of a blue finger for the other's apparent hypocrisy.

" _What?_ No!" Now indignant, Huntress banged a purple fist against her hip and glared down at the other woman. " _That_ was _one_ time—well, okay, maybe three times-but for the record it was _Batman's_ fault! _This_ -" she waved the chopsticks at Karen's world infamous over-revealing uniform bodice, "is called _basic hygiene!_ "

" _Hello!_ You live in _Gotham!_ " Power Girl just rolled her own eyes and began opening her tiffin stack. "You're practically inhaling _a Super Fund site_ every time you _breathe_."

Huntress opened her mouth to snap retort and then grunted. _Valid point._ She sniffed as dignifiedly as she could manage and settled down beside her friend, working her tiffin open almost on autopilot as she determinedly began thinking of how she could rearrange her-

Karen groaned. " _Really?_ You're already mentally reconfiguring your utility pouches for the addition of eating utensils, aren't you?"

Helena froze and then found herself blushing hotly beneath her cowl.

 _Am I_ _ **always**_ _this damn easy to read or is it just her?!_

Huntress scowled and gave a miffed half hearted kick at Karen's blue boot. Not enough to break her foot against the Kryptonian but enough to express her irritation. "Well, _one_ of us has to plan around you."

Power Girl laughed and gave a gentle shove back. The fact that it didn't throw Helena through the city just demonstrated Karen's sense of humor was actually far better than the Justice League thought. "Brat. And _good luck_ with that. I heard a rumor from Flash that yours truly gives _Batman_ headaches."

"Woman, that is a complete _lie_." Huntress smirked wickedly, "You give Tall, Dark and Brooding _migraines_."

"Really?" Power Girl then grinned evilly and shot a triumphant blue fist into the air. " _Victory!_ "

Helena snickered and neatly arranged her four boxes about her, honestly delighted in the fiery scents of the different Szechuan region dishes.

The two women settled into a comfortable companionable quiet, chopsticks working. About them Gotham's night went on, foul and dark but somehow to Helena it no longer seemed so soul consuming black. And as her heart eased, she remembered the purple ink scrawl on the back of her hand inside its Kevlar and leather glove. She sighed. The things she did for this man.

"Question's looking for you." Huntress said abruptly and got ready to duck.

But Karen just groaned. Apparently Szechuan ranked higher than fast food in the blonde's mind, much to Helena's relief. She still had bruises from the fries. _Fries_. How messed up was that?

"Just freaking _great_. And what did I do to get Mr. Aglets-Are-Evil's fedora of crazy turned my way?'

This, she did not know. But rather wanted to.

With carefully contrived casualness, Huntress shrugged and helped herself to more of the noodles. They were particularly searingly good so it wasn't hard. "Something about alien parties. Though, truthfully, I couldn't tell if he was referring to specific _groups_ or actual _entertainment_. And since talking to him usually leaves me sleeping with the lights on for a week in paranoia, I didn't ask."

Power Girl face palmed. "Damn it. I just _knew_ that went too smoothly to be over with."

Helena sincerely hope Karen never got herself interrogated. The woman was way too easy to pull information from. "Which one?"

The blonde sighed heavily. "Both actually."

" _Really?_ " Amusement filled Huntress. _How does the woman_ _ **do**_ _this stuff?_ "Now why _doesn't_ it surprise me that you're involved with alien parties?" A mischievous look crossed her face. "Let me _guess_ , does it involve-"

Karen's temper instantly flashed and her blue eyes flared again into the Kryptonian red eyed stare of impending fiery death. " _Finishing that sentence could be hazardous to your health._ "

Huntress snorted. "The last time I saw you, you wore a t-shirt that said _Hug Monkey_ on it. If you want to _menace_ me properly, you need to give me better mental images of suffering than _that_ to fall back on. Just for future note."

Karen growled. "Purple smart ass." But her eyes returned to blue.

Huntress tapped one purple gloved finger against her thigh, her interest now very high. "Question's not exactly the partying type." Karen snorted rudely and Helena gave her a glare back. "So what's his interest?"

Power Girl rolled her eyes. "Who _cares?_ It could be some crackpot cosmic conspiracy involving Jell-O shots and disco balls for all I know. The man's a certifiable _weirdo_. He needs a cell in Arkham with all the other screwballs."

Huntress went very deadly still. "That's not very damn nice." She warned dangerously.

" _Not very_ -" Power Girl stared incredulous her, then blue eyes widened in complete disbelief. "Whoa, there girl—please, _please_ , don't tell me you actually _like_ the Faceless Fruitcake?"

Huntress flinched and immediately snapped, "Of course not!"

"Wow," breathed Karen, looking like she'd just been sucker punched with kryptonite brass knuckles. "Wow. I _totally_ did not see that coming. How long have you liked the Trench Coat of Conspiracy?"

Huntress looked down at her food, embarrassed to the soul of her INTJ self and her mouth set into a scowl. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, hell _no_ , girl. I may not be one of you Gotham geniuses but I've got _Kryptonian eye sight_. You _like_ him. Start talking or I'll get the cat."

Huntress actually shuddered at that thought. She gave Power Girl one last glare and then sighed. She picked at her rice a few minutes. "I just . . . it's just . . . . He's always _polite_ to me," she said at last quietly. Her cowl couldn't hide her dark blush. "I know," she said in old bitter defense, "Stupid, right?" Complete silence met that and when she dared to look back up at last, she saw that Karen's face had softened into . . . _understanding_. And at last something long too tight loosened in her chest and she had to blink to keep her eyes clear suddenly.

They were silent for a while then; each eating quietly until they felt it was safe to talk again. Both of them knew all too well contempt from their own superhero community. And though the years had thickened their skins considerably, it still . . . _hurt_. Their pride was all they had to fight it with and neither of them was willing to risk that for anything.

Power Girl at last sighed. "Fine. If he wants to talk to me, go ahead and send him my way." She jabbed her chopsticks in Helena's direction. "But I'm only putting up with his crazy Sherlock shit for _you_ , so tell him to keep the nut case stuff toned down to Kardashian level or he's demon kitty food."

Huntress winced. "Maybe I'll come with him."

"And if he breaks your heart, I'll lobotomize him from high altitude orbit. Fair warning."

Helena actually smiled. "Thanks."

The two women began eating again. But Power Girl was now pensive and kept watching her surreptitiously out of the corners of her long lashed eyes and Huntress knew that tonight's discomfort was not over. She rarely expressed her feelings, let alone her heart. But she had unintentionally over Question, and now Karen was in full protection mode again and that meant Helena was about to get mothered some more. Huntress sighed and just grimly decided to meet it head on, before her friend decided to do something 'for her own good' that would probably involve something that Helena would genuinely regret. Like that Sharknado marathon.

"You're thinking about Arkham, aren't you?" Huntress said suddenly.

Karen was quiet for a bit longer and then slowly nodded. "I keep finding you here." She looked over her shoulder at their reeking evil companion in the dark and her face hardened. "Why here?" She turned narrowed eyes on Huntress. "Staring into the abyss doesn't end well for anyone. Ask _Batman_."

Huntress looked away. "I know." She said quietly.

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

Helena thought of dozens of reasons. But when she looked back into Karen's eyes and saw the fear shadowing the baby blue, she told the real one. Because she knew she had to at last. "Because it makes me angry." She took a deep breath and once more she caught the tangled scents of sweet almond and ozone over the filth that was Arkham and Gotham-and once more it cleansed her soul. And she suddenly couldn't stand it. She looked down at her hands and found that they had become fists. "And when I'm angry, I can't _grieve_."

She looked up at the leprous toxic clouds that smothered even the stars above and felt the deep pain that was her constant torturing personal devil roar out unstoppable through her heart. "It's _gone_. Everything we knew. Everyone we loved. Everything we were supposed to be. _It's all gone._ " She turned suddenly agonized-dark eyes to Karen. " _Gone._ I've tried _praying_. I've tried _silence_. And nothing changes. _Nothing changes_. All I hear is the screaming, the begging, the _laughter_. All I can see is the rotting mountains of corpses, the blacken ruins of worlds, the maniacal grinding down of even the bones of _an entire universe_. In my dreams. In my waking. And there isn't a damn thing I can do to change it. I'm in a living hell and _I can't make it stop_." She looked back at Karen and found there were great tears rolling down the other woman's face. And then realized to her horror that there was the same on her face. She scrubbed brutally hard at her cheeks. "But I keep thinking that maybe it won't be that way here. That maybe, just maybe, if I'm hard enough or good enough or just plain damn lucky enough, that maybe I can stop it from happening _here_. If I can just get _angry_ enough that _I can't feel anything else_. Because I don't know how much more of this I can _take_."

Strong muscled arms suddenly wrapped around her and held her tight. "Oh, Hel, there's not enough anger even in a _multiverse_ of Huntresses for that." Karen whispered roughly into her dark hair.

Helena sagged defeated into her almost sister's arms and just lay there. "Then what am I supposed to do now?" she whispered fearfully back into blonde hair.

Karen was silent for a long time. And then she said very, very softly. "I don't know."

Huntress sniffed and smiled bitterly. "Helping not so much, woman."

Power Girl chuckled ever so slightly and sniffed herself. "If you want to trade up best friends for Wonder Woman, I'll totally understand."

"You give softer hugs."

Karen gave a watery laugh. "Body armor is a bitch."

Helena snorted. "Yeah, _not_ thinking that's it."

"Need a harder hug?"

"I'll pass, thank you."

"We'll make it, Hel."

"How do you know _that?_ "

"I _don't_. I just know _us_."

Gotham's night went on around them, smothering foul and almost blinding black. The rest of their Szechuan slowly grew cold and congealed, forgotten in the stainless tiffins on the rooftop tar paper. Behind them Arkham's rotting bricks and crumbling stained concrete stank bitterly with almost eternal despair.

And neither woman noticed any of it at all.


End file.
